I hope that I find it after flossing. Standing at the bathroom sink, running my tongue over the words “survive” and “together.” I’m all messed up bedroom hair and dog-tired eyes and your language is painted over me like neon signage. Let’s wake up to burning. It can be the toast or it can be all the bridges we weren’t going to cross together.
I think we began here. I think it all started in your holy hands and dirty, ugly tongue. Say things that change me. Write them on my body, I want to wake up to a different world inside of me. Take every awful thing and make it wonderful. Say “I love you” like a curse. Say it like a blessing. Don’t say it at all. Fuck, I don’t really care as long as you keep looking at me like that. Like maybe you see the beautiful thing inside of me that I already know exists. That maybe you appreciate it too and that appreciation can hold hands and walk into a fire together and it will be violent and devastating and we will love every moment of it.
I gotta warn you now though, there are ugly things inside of me. Dark things that look like whatever you were scared of when you were nine. Sometimes I’m unrecognisable because of them. I need you to love me through those times, even if you’re terrified. Even if your teeth are chattering from the cold because you’ve got them too. And I promise I’ll hold you through the awful. I promise I’ll never make you feel like I’m going to leave you behind. All your drunk and your bitter and your hateful. All the twisted things that keep you up at night. We’ll survive every damn winter together. I’ll hold your hand when the beasts are clawing at you. Let’s do this one thing for each other, here it goes: I have seen the good in you and the bad in you and I will try my hardest to always love them both. When there are days that I cannot love you like I should, I will stay. I will stay. I will straighten my shoulders, take your battle and I will stay."
There is a rebellion lighting fires underneath my skin, and I am too scared to tell my mother about it. I am dragging my old self out of dirty corners and brushing her down. I am telling her to put her chin up and her armour on. I am saying ‘you will fight for what you believe in even if you have gone your whole life thinking that the fight is wrong.’ It is not wrong, or ugly, it is sacred. There is more to me than what I have been told. There is more to me than anyone will ever know. Not my unholy wants or the voice in my head that is telling me that I shouldn’t. I know that voice. It sounds like my mother’s and it sounds like mine except hers is cracking down the middle and she is saying ‘you have let me down’ and mine is saying ‘if you don’t keep going, your back will break.’ They are at war and they are loving each other. At this moment, I am not sure how both can exist at the same time.
But I will remember here and now, that I am more spine than i am anything else. I am more heart and fury and fire. I am the 20 years of learning to love myself and the other 20 that it will take to convince me that this love is worth more than can be given to me by any man. Give me your new streets, give me your rocketing ideas, give me the gunpowder so I can put it under my tongue and let the words say it all. Not centuries of tradition, not godliness or cleanliness or docility. I will carry my fight with me. I will keep it in a pouch under my heart and when she says ‘what has become of you?’ I will undo myself gently, lay it all at her feet and tell her ‘today, I am more myself than I have ever been’, I will tell her ‘thank you, thank you, I love you.’"
My problem with Tao is his immaturity.
It’s not what you say, but how you say it.
He can say whatever he wants, but I don’t need him to emphasize how many members are left.
We know only ten remain.
Just how he said ‘I hope us ten remain together’ he could of easily said ‘exo will continue to…